A Boy who Almost Made it and The Girl who Loved him
by Summer Leigh Wind
Summary: He was just another urchin of Knockturn's streets, she the daughter of a working man. Her brother may have brought them together, but he played no part in how their love blossomed - or how it was picked apart petal by petal. One-Shot. Companion to A Child who Lived in Knockturn Alley.


**_A Boy who Almost Made it and The Girl who Loved him_**

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><p>He'd been very small when he came to Knockturn Alley's grimy brick streets. The world so big and fierce then and he just a little thing who had clung to his mother's knees in fear of getting left behind somewhere in it. Of course, as all little boys did, he trusted his mother implicitly. Despite her occasional slap to his bum and even his face when he was bad or annoying, Greg had never expected what happened to happen.<p>

Walking the dingy streets of Knockturn Alley, Greg had gripped his mother's cloak especially tight that day as they moved quickly around the people, stands and puddles that dotted the area.

"Mummy?" He'd questioned when she lead them into an alleyway.

She wretched him away from her and crouched down. Her eyes, a tough bronze color, were framed by wings of black as she made Greg keep her stare. "I'm leaving you here," she said.

His tiny heart picking up speed, he'd tried to throw himself at her. "NO!"

Greg's mum slapped him.

"Shut up!" She hissed, "You're no good father went and joined that stupid muggle war and now he's dead! I don't have the money to keep you and no good wizard is going to want me if I have you!"

Crying uncomprehending little boy tears, Greg had stood stunned and sucking in air as his mum stood up and walked away. It hadn't been until well after his mum had gone that it really settled into him that she wasn't just punishing him or being nasty as she was somedays. Running out into the street then, he'd screamed "Mummy! Mummy! Where are you mummy!?"

A lot of people just ignored him and for a while he was just left to wander and sniffle as he looked for her. Greg didn't find her that day, but a man dressed in a high-collared coat with quick-moving eyes had come to him and asked "Where's your mother little boy?"

Looking up at him, Greg had just shook his head.

"Are you lost?"

Wiping the snot from his face with the back of his sleeve, he'd told the man "Mummy left me here."

A light had come to the man's eyes then as he maneuvered Greg into taking his hand. "Well," he had tittered. "Isn't that too bad for her?" Smiling at him, the man reached into his pocket and handed down a sugar quill. "You know, I think you are a very fine little boy; how would you like to come home with me?"

"Okay," Greg had answered somewhat relieved that he wasn't going to be alone anymore, but mostly sad because it wasn't mummy he was going home with.

Pointing to a room above one of the many shops, the man in the high-collar said "I live right there."

Greg hadn't cared and had simply allowed the man to lead him up the stairs where he was then fed a decent dinner of potatoes and meat before things went bad. Really bad.

It took him almost a month and a half before he figured out how to get out of the man's apartment. And even after, Greg had to hide in the alleyways out of fear of the high-collared man finding him if he were to go out in the open of Knockturn's Alley. That was the first time he almost starved to death.

The next time he almost starved, he was just turned thirteen. He'd been beaten up and caught stealing several times in the last month and even venturing out in daylight caused store keepers to go on guard and for drunks and other, not so drunk men, to go at him looking for a fight. He supposed that was mostly his fault, though. Greg had hit a bit of a growth spurt and was clumsy with his new limbs and so stealing had turned into a difficulty. And because he was bigger, men took him as a threat.

They for whatever reason, felt his lean build and dirty face were threatening and often tried to beat him up - that is, when they weren't propositioning him for sex. And when Greg refused to put his mouth on their cocks or give them his backside they got belligerent and beat him up for rejecting him. One time, when he hadn't been quick enough to get away, a wizard had still gotten what he wanted.

Greg hadn't felt like crying so much since he'd been four.

But all of that struggling had been about to end that one, beautiful day.

Starving in a back alley among the cats and rats, Greg had been attempting to sleep the better part of the day away tucked behind some trashcans when he heard a bit of a struggle. Greg knew better than to draw attention to himself, but the last of his curiosity drew him to look out and see what was happening. A big man was looming over a-

He broke out in a cold sweat of sheer panic.

That _kid_. That was him seven or eight years ago. Shaking with fear and a slowly bubbling rage, Greg had slipped out from behind the trash and came up behind the big man and little boy. Watching for all of five seconds, he swung a fist at the wizard and stunned him long enough to drag up the little boy.

With very big eyes, the little kid lead them out of the alleyway and around Knockturn until they reached a couple of girls playing gobstones. One of the girls, who Greg felt must be the oldest of the two, looked at them when she heard their ragged breathing.

Bright eyes wide with surprise, she'd cried "Where'd you come form?!"

Greg, thoroughly embarrassed to have such a nice - _clean -_ girl looking at him without disdain, only shrugged and offered his best smile. What could he say? That he saved the little kid shaking beside him from certain molestation?

"He saved me." The boy beside him declared, "He's going to come eat lunch with me upstairs."

Greg was so shocked he couldn't object as they started toward what he now knew was the little kid's home. The other girl, face a nice oval with dainty features that made him think she was by far the most attractive of them all; yelled with a surprisingly heavy voice "Mumma's not going to let a stranger in the apartment!"

Mumma. These kids were related, Greg realized with stupid clarity. Of _course _they were! Looking between the three, it was easy to tell from not just their ears and sharp bodies, but their confident speech that they were siblings. Suddenly, Greg felt he should leave. He didn't belong among such good children-

"She will too!" The little boy argued and before he could do anything, Greg was marched up the stairs of the building in front of them and into a little apartment filled with the smell of cooking cabbage and a baby babbling just to the left of the door. Tugging on his hand, the little boy pointed at a chair.

"You sit there," he said and Greg did.

The little kid then moved on to hug his mum around the thighs.

Nervous, Greg watched in silence as the boy told his mum "I brought home the big boy who rescued me for lunch today."

She spun around like a toy top then. Eyes enormous, she let loose a terrified scream. Greg almost bolted, but the pounding of feet was on the stairs outside the apartment's door and before he knew what was happening, the little kid had wrapped himself around Greg and was yelling all sorts of things as his mum screeched again and his sister hovered beside their enraged father.

Eventually, though, things calmed down enough for the little boy to tell the story of how Greg got him away from the pedophile. The kid - Earl - did a spectacular job of making him sound like he was that guy Jesus he'd heard about at story time as a very little boy with his mother in the sharp pews of a place called 'church'. By the end of the tale, his parents were offering a place for Greg in their home and when he looked to see what their daughters thought, the second youngest was coloring with admiration and she was oh so pretty that he accepted.

He'd keep this kid, Earl, safe from now on and he'd protect the girls too if they ever needed him. It was the least he could do for this family who were going to give him food, a bed and a place to wash without asking for anything in return.

Greg blended into the family quite easily, there had been an older son, he learned; and without him, things had gone off kilter. With his presence, things were better and Earl's papa even showed his appreciation to him one day by patting him on the back as he walked into the apartment on a rainy afternoon.

"Good boy," he'd told Greg upon seeing how he was keeping all the other kids occupied with a story from a book he was learning to read - thanks to Talia's, Earl's mum, lesson.

It had been a really good moment, that one. He'd told himself he would cherish it forever and ever - that is until the dementors sucked it dry of all the warmth and it was just another picture movie to watch play in his mind.

* * *

><p>There had been more to Greg's sentence to Azkaban than him simply using the <em>crucio <em>spell - as awful as that was. Ellen knew this all the way to the very deepest crevices of her heart that had never been purged of the love she held for her husband. In fact, if she so wished it, Ellen could feel that it had begun long before Greg murdered their Emanuel's killer. Much longer.

Sometimes...sometimes Ellen felt if she put her finger to a fogged mirror and thought back far enough, she could trace the moment she knew her love wouldn't make it - an exact pinpoint second among a jargon of lines and other dots drawn on a dewy mirror. This, of course, wasn't true. It couldn't be. Because as so many women and men could attest to, love blinds you. It covers those sense that should tell you that there was something wrong, the ones that call you to flee and fight and give up.

Ellen, nearly from the moment her little brother brought Greg home to them, she had loved him. Loved him with fire-intensity and mountain-longevity. And unlike how she could not pin-point the breath in space and time where Ellen knew he'd fail, she could recall and say exactly when it was that she fell for him completely and fully.

It had been a mildly cold day. The kind that left your skin chilled when you went inside and fingers warm within your gloves or mittens when out in the brisk air. Tatyanna had been two months gone - Boris with her. Earl was upstairs with their mother as he was sick with some head cold that required him to lay quietly in his bed and sleep. Ellen and Greg had just finished giving the morning scraps to the stray cats outside the apartment when he looked at her.

"Wanna make a run to the bookstore?" He'd asked her.

She knew what that meant. Greg wanted to go steal a book to read - maybe he'd sell it after he was done or keep it if he liked it well enough. Nodding her head, Ellen had agreed. "Can we pick up a storybook this time?"

Giving her one of those full smiles that showed how his teeth stuck out long and overlapped one another, he shrugged. "Why not?" Greg consented.

Walking away from the little patch of brick and mortar she's known for the better part of her memory, they entered the nearby bookstore, Moribunds, and began to browse.

After a while, she found one that's full of tales of princes and wicked stepmothers and presented it to Greg. Putting a finger to his lip then, Greg slipped it beneath his shirt and hands Ellen a handful of knuts and said "Buy a quill!"

Following his direction, Ellen went and took a moment to browse the meager selection by the front counter before going to old man Moribund to buy the item. He's an angry-faced chap with a nose skewed to the left and Ellen tries to get him to look at her with a pretty smile.

"How are you today sir?"

He grunted.

She heard the creak of Greg walking and so made an attempt to get Mr. Moribunds to look away from the door. "Oh dear! Your window!"

His head swerved, but he was not fooled long enough and saw Greg at his shop door with his oddly flat and bulging stomach. When he looked back at her, Ellen knew Greg needed help. So, she screamed.

The old man jumped and looked to her, but she whizzed past the counter then and after Greg. He was going so fast, but she caught up to his heels and stayed there until they were on the stairs that lead to their family's apartment.

Panting and chortling, the two had to lean in close several times to keep themselves balanced on their feet. Eyes twinkling and smile so large, Greg patted her back and complimented her "Great work Ellen!"

She smiled at him with a red blush on her cheeks and thought how nice it'd be if he told her that again, (and it was in that moment that Ellen realized her heart was no longer hers and hers alone).

Things had progressed faster and faster after that day, Greg trusted her so much more than he did anyone else and began to let her into his little "business" - which had begun as a black market of cauldrons and potions ingredients and other things Ellen suggested they sell, but one day, after a "customer" talked with Greg for nearly an hour in their little hide-away alley they began to sell and import muggle drugs.

Once, Ellen twelve and a half and oh so curious, had tried the one called "opium"; Greg had found her when she didn't come back from the deal she'd been sent to broker and had picked her off the street and given her a good shake and slap.

"You don't fuck with that stuff!" He roared at her. "Stupid bitch! Told ya and I told ya! Don't _use _the merch!

She, had taken the hard hand and wrapped herself around the arm it was attached to. "I just wanted to try it," she whimpered. "Don't hate me Greg! I love y-you!"

He'd gone from angry-tense to slack to terrified-tense before he brought her close and embraced her. "I love you too, 'kay Ellen? I don't hate ya."

After a bit more crying, Greg whispering promises of eternal love, they started to _snog_. It was more than just the fleeting kisses they shared outside her family's apartment and the occasional lip-sucking, nipping stuff they did when Earl and Irene were sleeping in their beds in the middle of the night; this was - _desperate. _Aching. Like they'd never said 'I love you' before to anyone (which might have been the case for Greg, Ellen would muse later in life). Ten more minutes, Greg had her skirt hiked up around her hips and was pressing his cock against her and it felt so _hot _and all Ellen knew was she wanted Greg to. never. _stop. _

She lost her virginity that afternoon. Standing up and pressed into a brick wall of an alleyway like a whore as Greg moaned "_Ellen, Ellen, Ellen!_" into her neck.

It wasn't glamorous, it made her sound dirty and loose; but it had been with _Greg_. Her love and husband. How many other girls could say they lost their innocence to their first and only love?

Not nearly as many as one would think, she was sure.

The next two years passed in a mildly pleasant way. Greg continued to expand his work, inducting a few urchin boys to be his message runners for clients and a couple more to learn the business of selling. Those boys were his favorite, they were wily, but unfailingly loyal to her love. Their eyes shone with gratitude when he spoke to them and she wondered what her Greg did to earn such adoration from these tough, wizened youths. But when he held her in the nights and kissed the back of her neck and breathed "_Ellen, Ellen, Ellen,_" as he came to a climax while they made love; she knew why. He knew how to make you feel as if you were special. The only one in the world for him.

Shortly after Ellen turned fourteen, Greg struck out on his own and bought a homey, one-room apartment. She'd been sad to see him leave her family, but when he invited her over for lunch (and more) she'd adored the fact they finally had a place that was all their own.

Staring up at the water-stained ceiling, Ellen had rested happily in her love's arms and felt at peace. She wouldn't mind spending more time here in the coming years.

"You alright, love?" Greg had asked in a sleepy snuffle as she twined her fingers in his chest hair.

Smiling, she'd plopped a kiss on his cheek and answered "Never better."

If only she'd known how short that perfect time would be. If only.

* * *

><p>Ellen came to him one day crying. Greg had left his boys to chatter amongst themselves to take her in her arms. Clutching his shoulders, Ellen had looked up with her swollen, aching face and cried:<p>

"He kicked me out! My father kicked me out!"

Gaping, Greg tried to understand how the man who'd taken him and overlooked his discretions could throw out his own daughter. Kissing both her cheeks, he swayed with her as she calmed down and eventually asked, "why?"

More tears came to her eyes, but so did a smile. She took one of his hands and put it on her belly. At first, Greg didn't know what she was doing but _then, _then he knew. He got it. His girl was _pregnant _and with _his _baby!

Lifting her off her feet to spin her around, Greg called with true jubilation in the grim street of Knockturn Alley "My girl's gonna have a baby! A baby!"

His boys from behind began to hoot and holler for him and Ellen and Greg could almost imagine they'd planned this. That they'd wanted the baby she was going to have. Putting her back down on the ground, he cupped her cheek and whispered "You run on to my place, okay?"

"But-"

He shushed her with a soft kiss. "No, Ellen, my home's your home now. And-" he put his hand back on her sweater-clad stomach. "I don't want you or the baby runnin' around out here on your own, alright?"

"What about you, Greg?" His girl asked him in her anxious way. "What are you going to do?"

Looking back to his grinning boys, he took Ellen by the hand and answered "I'm gonna finish up work and see if I can't talk to your mum, alright?"

"Okay," and she walked on; herhoulders slumped and glancing furtively over her back from time to time - like she was afraid Greg would disappear. He had no plans to, though, he loved her more than anything else he'd known in life and he would be there for her all the way through. Turning back to his boys, he tipped his head and said "Let's get business done quick today, alright lads?"

"Of course Greg," one of the cheekier ones agreed with a dimpled smirk. "We all know you just want to do some more snoggin' with your girl!"

They didn't know how wrong they were, or course, but he appreciated how happy they were for him and so he took the cheeky one under his arm and gave him a noogie. Despite everything, Greg could hardly recall a happier moment in his life.

After work, he went and visited his adoptive family only to find Earl on the steps leading up to the apartment with his younger sister at his side. Ruffling the two's hair he gave them each a knut and said "Let me up to see your mum, yeah?"

The pair scooted aside and Earl grabbed Greg's pant leg. "Where's my sister?" He demanded.

"At my place," he told the boy.

This settled the child and he looked away to the shop their papa worked at. "He'll be home in thirty minutes."

"I won't be long," Greg promised as he ascended the stairs.

Up there, he found Talia crying over laundry as she hung it up on the line out the back window. Scuffing his boots, he called "Hey."

She twirled around. "Where's my daughter?" She hissed.

"At my place," Greg answered.

The woman gave a breathless laugh and hugged him.

"Oh my love, you are a good boy!" She exclaimed.

Patting her back, he let her go and said "You gotta convince him to let Ellen home, she wants to be here. Not at my place."

Nodding vigorously, Talia gave him one of her patent crooked grins and kissed both his cheeks. "Of course my dear boy," she replied. "It might take a bit of wrangling, but if you can keep an eye on her until the end of the week, she'll have a place here again."

"I will," Greg promised with true earnestness. "I will keep her as happy as I can 'til then."

Tears streamed down her age-weathered face, but the relief took the edge away from her jaw. "Thank you Greg," Talia whispered.

"She's my girl, I'd do it again and again."

And with that, Greg returned to his girl. She was laid out in bed curled around her middle and not interested in talking. He let her be for the evening and even slept on the couch to give her all the space she needed.

In the morning, she thanked him by making his favorite for breakfast - porridge and eggs. The week moved quick after that and when Ellen returned to her family, Greg was already wishing her back.

When the baby came five months later, he was there holding her hand all the way through it even as the midwife glared over his girl's knees at him. Ellen's labor was surprisingly quick and within three hours of going into it, there son came squalling into the world. After the the willowy woman plopped the baby in his girl's arms, Greg had squeezed close to look into their baby's face.

"He's beautiful," Ellen had cooed.

Swallowing back a lump of emotion, Greg had glowed with all the pride of a true father as he took one of the infant's tiny hands. "That he is."

Wearing a smile of her own, Ellen had met his gaze and asked "What are we to name him?"

"Gaspard," Talia answered from her daughter's other side. "He looks just like one."

Playing with his son's hands, he toyed with the name on his tongue. "Gassspard. Gas-pard. Gas_pard._ I like it, what about you love?"

"It's excellent," Ellen agreed with a wider smile. "My little Gaspard..." she whispered to their baby as she kissed his forehead. "You'll be something, won't you?"

After Gaspard was born, life moved so quick that Greg felt he was only catching snatches of it as it passed him by. A handful here, a pinch there. One day Gaspard was all they had, the next it was Emmanuel and Gaspard, Gaspard and Emmanuel.

The two were so opposite, Gaspard a cheery boy with a deep interest in cauldrons and potions that boded well for the Hogwarts education his aunt Tatyana had promised him. Emmanuel was a stubborn one, wearing a frown more often than not and quite happy even with his lame foot to go about wandering Knockturn with only his crutch to defend himself.

Emmanuel gave them ulcers and Gaspard cured them. The two were of different poles, but even with that, they shared a bond Greg had never imagined possible. Gaspard adored his younger brother and always took his opinion into great consideration. Emmanuel was only ever at peace when his brother sat with him in the evenings to read stories to him from the storybook Greg and Ellen had stolen all those years ago.

Somehow, life seemed just shy of excellent even on the forgotten street of Knockturn Alley. Or it was until that one day.

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><p>Drying her hands after dishes, Ellen had gone out on the balcony to see if she couldn't catch an eye-full of her Emmanuel. He'd promised not to go out brawling this afternoon, but he hadn't come in from his smoke and...<p>

She looked down. On the stoop she saw her son spread eagle with blood around his head. Screaming so loud she was sure all the world had heard her, Ellen ran back through her apartment and down the stairs to her baby's side. Picking him up, she cradled him to her breast as she once had when he was little bigger than her arm and wailed "My son! My Emmanuel! Help! Help!"

It was too late. He was dead and his soul half-way to the other side.

They held a wake the next evening and all her family and her husband's men (several years passed boys now) came through to pay their respects. She had stared at the casket with her son's remains in desolate heartache, her husband no where to be found and only her living son their needing more comfort than she.

"My brother, my brother," he whimpered. "That's him lying dead."

She brought her Gaspard close and kissed his forehead as she had when he'd been born. "Hush my love," she soothed.

He was not soothed and cried all the night.

As the guests trickled out, Ellen stood alone accepting the last of their condolences. Once they were all gone, she turned her back and breathed a sigh of weary relief. Now she could cry too. A tapping at the door caught her attention as she put the kettle on for a cup of tea. Going to it, she opened the door to find a boy of nine or ten looking up at her in a guilty way.

"Yes?" She demanded, emotions frayed and incapable of predicting why this little boy was here.

Tiny chest heaving, he spewed "I-I-I-I-knowwhokilledyourson."

"What?" Ellen whispered, "Who?"

Wiping at his nose, the boy whispered "H-He's one of t-t-t-t-the big boys. One of t-t-t-t-he bigguns who h-hits the littler ones t-t-to steal t-t-t-the money we get from beggin'."

"Come in!" She urged then, her husband would want to talk to this boy later. This little urchin, she thought a bit more fondly as he looked around her family's modest apartment. Leading the child to her family's couch, she sat him down and said "I'm going to make some tea, will you have some while we wait for my husband to come home?"

Greg didn't come home that night. Or the next morning. But he was at the burial of their Emmanuel and Ellen was relieved for that. It meant she still had a husband.

He came home with her and Gaspard and that's when he met the urchin, Mickey.

Mickey, all nervous energy and stutter, managed to tell the story of how he saw their son murdered on their front stoop by another urchin of fifteen or so years old.

Face turning darker and darker with every stammered word from Mickey's lips, by the end Greg was stalking the length of their apartment and then - then he left. Ellen attempted to run after him, but for the first time in years, he slapped her and told her to go home.

Very much hurt, she did so and sat down on the couch beside young Mickey and let him attempt to sooth her with a quiet whisper of "I-I-It'll be alright M-Missus."

She took the little boy's hand and prayed he was right. After a while, her Gaspard came out of his room and sat down with them to promise the same.

"It'll be okay mum."

* * *

><p>Greg had thought he'd done a pretty damn good job of hiding the urchin's body after he finished killing him. He'd even kept the mess to a minimum. Walking away from the back-alley way he used to pawn drugs in, he'd felt good. Like everything was fair again. His son may be dead, but so was his killer. He'd gone home and seen his wife, living son and the urchin on the couch.<p>

Going over with a wide smile, he'd hugged his family and then ruffled the small boy's hair.

Looking the child in the face, he'd said, "I got a place for you."

"Where sir?" The boy inquired.

Urging the boy up, he lead him to Emmanuel's room. "That's gonna be your room for now on, okay?"

Eyes so wide, Mickey had only been able to stammer "T-t-t-thank you!"

"'s the least I can do, Mick," he'd replied and left it at that.

A week and a half later, he, Ellen, his nephews Alex and Earl and Mickey were eating their first dinner together since Gaspard returned to Hogwarts when a couple of aurors popped into existence.

"We are here for Greg Shingleton."

Ellen screamed. And threw herself on him. "You can't have my husband!" She shrieked at the two.

Eyes cold and unforgiving, one had ripped his wife from Greg.

"Hey!" He roared at the man. "That's my wife you're tossing about!"

The other auror, a young lady with thick brows remarked in a gentle voice "If you don't put up a fight no one will get hurt."

"I ain't putting up no fight!" Greg spit as he approached the duo.

Wobbling on unsteady feet, Ellen had begged "What's he done that's so bad you've come? What's he done? What's he done that a million other men here haven't?"

Face that of sympathy, the young lady explained "He used _crucio _on a young lad and then murdered him. He has to pay for it."

"No," Ellen sobbed. "No!"

And as she cried, the two aurors finished their business, Greg only getting to say a quick "Love you" before they disapparated.

Just a little longer than a week later, Greg was sentenced to Azkaban and Ellen essentially became a widow. She would raise her son and this urchin child they picked off the streets all on her own and she hated her husband for it.

But she loved him for it too. He'd avenged their Emmanuel in a way that the justice department never would have.

And so, the two grew old separate and one day in the early morning a persistent cold killed Greg in his prison cell. Later that same day, Ellen received news of her husband's death and sat down only to have a heart attack and die in her favorite rocking chair.

A few hours later, Mickey came in with a toddler girl in his arms and called "Mum?"

When there was no return call, he put the girl down to play with the cat lounging in the sun not far away from the door and wandered to the back room where he found her in her chair. Dead.

"Aw mum," Mickey whispered as he knelt next to her and took the letter from her hands and read it. He shook his head and with tears in his eyes whispered "You two really did love each other, huh?"

She said nothing (as she was many hours dead), but he liked to imagine that somewhere on the other side she was embracing her long lost husband and preparing to enjoy the rest of eternity there with him.

* * *

><p><strong>What do you think of Greg's story and Ellen and Greg's love story? Was it interesting? Believable? <strong>

**Now, this story was inspired by a want to see more of Greg's back story from my friend The Dark One Rising. I did my best to fill in his background as well as explain how he and Ellen came to be a couple as well as the disintegration of their family.**

**Somehow, I feel I should make a tale for Boris and Tatyanna too as neither got much screen time in this one. What do you think?**

**To those of you who don't know, these are the same characters I used in my fic _A Child who Lived in Knockturn Alley. _Which makes this a companion to that fic. I highly suggest you check that one out to get a fuller view of Ellen's family.**

**Thank you all very much for reading and pretty please review!**


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